


Gluten Free

by LyricDreamweaver



Series: 33 Ocassions for TF2 Guro [21]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bread Monster - Freeform, Emetophobia, Extremely Dubious Consent, Monster sex, Other, Respawn, Tentacle Rape, Vaguely set during Expiration Date, all the way through, fucked to death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 07:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12271773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricDreamweaver/pseuds/LyricDreamweaver
Summary: Soldier does nothing but teleport bread for three days.





	Gluten Free

He's bent over and glad no one can see the humiliating way he's been put on display., his clothes lying in shreds on the floor A cold, slimy tentacle slides up over his thighs, giving his limp cock some attention. Then the tapered end of the tentacle, oozing a transparent green fluid, slides into him. The Soldier gives a startled yelp as the tentacle slides in, stretching him. His eyes well up with tears: one part shame and two parts the physical pain of being invaded so quickly and by a bread monster of all things.

There's a hot breath from the monster against his back and that doesn't help him swallow down self-pity, his cock twitching with some deep-seated, sick arousal. The tentacle presses in deeper, more of its length sliding into him, tumours stimulating him in a way he's never experienced before. He tries not to think about the way the tentacle squirms, adding more of that lubricant and warming him from the inside. Instead, the Soldier tries to think about how those teeth could rend flesh, the godawful wail of the monster before it gets violent.

But isn't this a different kind of violence?

He doesn't want this, in spite of the groans forcing their way out of his throat, the heat pulsing through his blood, the hardness of his now-red dick, the tentacle sliding so deep into him it's almost like having a man's forearm shoved up inside him. 

The Soldier's broken out of his thoughts of what's going on between his thighs when another tentacle forces its way into his mouth, making him gag, muscles twitching painfully. His jaw locks up around the length and the tentacle seeps a bitter, metallic fluid. He can feel bile rising and the tentacle understands, pulling out of his mouth only to let him vomit. Since he's bent over, he has to stare at the mess he's made just before the tentacle returns to his mouth, blocking the pool of bile and lunch on the floor. 

It makes him retch, forcing him to vomit over and over until he can only dry heave and cry. There's an ache in his ribs, a more sharp pain in his throat. The Soldier makes a half-hearted struggle and something pops in his right shoulder, pain blossoming white-hot in the joint.

The tentacle working between his thighs spills more and more fluid into him, marinating him in the aphrodisiac. When it absorbs into him, leaving him hot and his cock hard, the tentacle goes in deeper, flexible enough to navigate the whole of his insides. Before he can say a single word, the tentacle presses up the final stretch—his throat—and the tip escapes his mouth.

He tries a last-ditch attempt to bring his teeth down and hurt the creature, but its too rubbery. The last of his strength drains from him and the tentacle erupts neon-green globs that coat his face, making him look like a rather macabre fountain.

He comes _hard._ The feeling of being so violated, so used, gets him off like no skin mag, no handjob, no sex ever has. His pupils are wide, black threatening to engulf blue as everything slowly goes dark: edges first, then the very centre of his view. He makes one last wheezing sound, the last of the air leaving him, and then he goes limp.

He steps out of Respawn wit one hand massaging his throat. The walk of shame to his room in the barracks leaves him full of dread, afraid he'll find the monster with a new target (and that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that he understands is _jealousy_ when its with a human partner) or, worse, he'll find someone asking about how he's holding up. The Medic, probably.

But when he gets to his room, there's no monster. There's never a corpse with Respawn. Aside from a broken vent and a puddle of slowly-drying vomit, The Soldier could have sworn the whole thing was just a sick dream.


End file.
